Queer as Desire
by Tigerdust
Summary: The anticipated sequel to Queer as Studies finds John nestling into Liberty Avenue and his new relationship with our favorite boys. But will his lustful hangover for Ben be his undoing when an old flame flickers near? B/M with bits of OC. Others own all.
1. Chapter 1

_Listening to Cher while rollerblading down Liberty Avenue should be an Olympic sport_, John muttered to himself with a satisfied grin as he was attacked by a brisk oncoming wind. Sure, he could have rode bikes like Ben and Michael, but his style was a bit closer to the ground, more Gene Kelly than Fred Astaire if you will.

Liberty Avenue was home in many ways. He had moved away from Troy, or possibly it was vice versa. Once he had tried settling with Emmett and then Emmett had tried the alone thing after Ted and moved right onto Debbie. Lots of drama and John tried to be supportive, but just getting over his own drama was by far enough for him. Emmett leaving that apartment open, however, gave John the opportunity to navigate and socialize the gay waters like never before. The friendship that he'd begun with the boys had blossomed beyond his dreams. Yes, even with the legendary Brian Kinney.

John swung down the street with a rolling cadence. His now ever-present American Outfitters khaki bag featured one appointment book and idea pad, a requisite John Grisham paperback, extra dark orange sweater or workout gear, and the scarf been had given him. John reached down to pad the loose Velcro button that flew into the wind occasionally. And just as that which never failed, he had hit the chorus of "Strong Enough" when, while rolling through the exit of a parking garage, his habit of not looking both ways before crossing the caught up with him.

It happened in severe slow motion. He felt himself flipping forward over the dark blue Mercedes and John tried to keep his feet straight so as not to break an ankle in the roller blades. John noted by the license plate that the navy blue sedan was a rental. He lay there less than a pace from the tire, stunned. The world was so strange and peaceful when you watched it from the sky. His mp3 player had been protected by an inner pocket and so the next song began, blissfully unaware of the fall.

The car door opened and John didn't react at first. He only saw the dark brown leather sole and the lighter tan khakis. The body was lean and long, smooth knuckles with a hint of wrinkle. The guy was youngish, with a tinge of age from his career but without sign in his raven locks. Man, John thought to himself as he registered the man staring down at him, this guy's loaded.

At first, John seemed blissfully unaware of the man and his increasingly-furrowed brow. He was probably shouting something in Mr. Tripp's direction. John shook the ear buds from his ears and down around his neck. The stranger spoke first. "Oh my God, are you okay?"

His voice was tinged with worry and a bonus English accent. His deep blue shirts matched a variety of tints in his eyes. John took a moment to respond. "I've been worse. Should probably get up though."

The man licked his lips and extended his arms. After a bit of trial and error, there was an agreement between the two that the roller blades made helping more difficult. John turned after extraditing himself from the ground in the wrong direction. "Sorry that I gave you such a scare."

The stranger waved the thought off. "No, no. I was more worried that I injured you. All you Americans drive on the wrong side of the street enough as it is anyways…"

John chuckled. "You might say that."

The lines on the driver's forehead began to fade just a touch. "…and I thought I might have read the rule of pedestrians wrong as well. Do let me make it up to you."

John shook his head. "I don't think I have time today, unfortunately. I was in quite a bit of a hurry of my own, off in my own little world. I'm late for a lunch date with a couple of friends."

The stranger's face fell a bit. "Oh. Well, I'm going to be in town on business for awhile, perhaps later then?"

"Perhaps. And from the look of your rental, you can afford to really make it up to me."

The driver chuckled. "Not quite. I spoiled myself on the automobile. I felt I needed to make an impression with my clients."

John couldn't stop himself from making the joke with a straight face. "Well, it has made quite an impression on me."

The foreigner winced. "And whom might I ask have I made the impression on, so that I might find you again? Preferably without running you down."

John smirked and extended his hand. "John Penn. And I have the pleasure of meeting…"

"My sincerest apologies, hitting and rudeness. Where have my manners gone? My name is Devon Masters."

John took a moment with the handshake. "Well, Mr. Masters, seems that no damage has come to your car and since we're both quite busy today, I must bid you a fond and hasty farewell."

John turned away but was stopped by Devon's voice. "And how will I find you, Mr. Penn?"

John smirked as he bladed backwards. "I wouldn't worry about it. I'm pretty infamous around here."

He was still chuckling when he reached the bench in front of the Liberty Diner. John was greeted by his favorite sight in the whole world, Ben's professor coat. Time moved just as slowly as when he had flipped between the releasing of his blade straps and sneaking glances at Ben's property through the window. Wiggling his toes a bit to return circulation, John entered in his pair of dark Green converse and the din of the Diner at lunch wasn't as deafening as he had expected.

"What's so funny?" Michael queried.

"Nothing."

"Hey Red! Are we getting the usual?" Debbie hollered from over by the counter.

"Love ya, Debbie. And with hash browns please!" John blew a kiss in her direction.

Ted addressed the newly-occupied space to his right. "Feeling adventurous today? Bound to give yourself a heart attack with all that grease."

"Nonsense. Live by moderation; that's going to be my newest rule."

Emmett chimed in as he walked towards the table. "Well, three cheers to that."

Ted answered. "To the grease or the moderation?"

Michael responded with a touch of humor to his voice. "At this diner, either."

"I heard that." Debbie called from the warming window.

"And I didn't hear you arguing either."

John's slightly winded face turned to see Ben on a rare lunch break. He felt blessed that he was winded simply by the fact that Ben wouldn't see the crawling blush for the umpteenth time. Ben sighed on cue. "Well, unfortunately you have impeccable timing John. I have to get back to school."

Michael turned to his lover with a slight pout dangling on his lips. "Are you sure you can't stay just a few minutes more?"

Ben shook his head. "I'd stay longer, but I do have to face a stack of essays roughly your height and three very angry juniors about various mid-terms."

Michael slid himself into Ben's side. "Poor baby."

Emmett noticed the way that John found his silverware very interesting at that moment. He did however manage to mumble a bit of conversation. "Was it those Tennessee Williams' papers you had your American Lit class do?"

Ben turned away from his love, a bit of glaze over his eyes. "Hmm? Oh, yes." Ben sighed heavily. "Never give a college student the means to bash an incredibly significant American author."

Emmett slid into the space next to Ted and John. "I'll bet they're about as vicious as a gay man on a bad line of Armani undies."

"Something like that." Michael moved from the booth so Ben could slide out and grab his coat. He produced a book from his pocket and returned it to John. "Thanks for loaning your copy of the Analects to me. I just haven't had time to get by the bookstore recently."

John shrugged his shoulders. "It's alright. Besides, I know where you live."

With that, Ben grinned and made his exit, leaving John for his finale departing kiss on the head. Emmett noticed John's smile, which could have lit every bulb on Broadway. Debbie trudged over with several plates of food, including Michael's usual Wednesday tuna melt. "You ain't staying?"

Emmett scurried to the other side of the booth, giving John and Ted some breathing room. "No, he's making room for me Deb."

John tried waving Ben away, but he could feel Debbie's hand on his arm as one of the plates slid onto the table with a slight clink. "Holy shit, what happened to your arm?"

Ben leaned over in his coat and John cringed with embarrassment. "It's nothing. I just got in a little scrape with a car."

"On your roller blades?"

John turned toward Ted with a withering look. "Yes, on my roller blades. Guess that's what happens when you feed a gay stereotype about being distracted while listening to Cher."

Emmett looked as though he was going to burst into song. "Ooh, was it Strong Enough?"

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ben and Michael interjected at the same time.

Debbie pointed toward the back with her head. "I've got a med kit back there."

John tried to diffuse the situation. "Will everyone calm down? It was a little scrape, that's all. No damage to either side, just an English accent and a dark blue Mercedes."

Ben lifted an eyebrow and then closed his mouth when he thought better of what he was about to say. As he passed the door, Emmett picked at one of Michael's fries. "Was he cute?"

John's instant reaction was a nod, although he'd be the first to admit that the accent was a good enough reason for even thinking the ugliest foreign speaker delicious. Debbie piped into the thought. "Well, all right. But you let me know if I can at least get a Band-aid for you or something. What'll it be Emmett?"

John looked down at his scrape, watching the reflection of Ben leaving in a nearby spoon. He had an ache in his gut, wanting to lie about the scrape to keep Ben's attention, but feeling guilty for that need at the same time. He wanted Ben to worry about him. But then again, he'd lived through worse drama than a Telemundo soap and he needed more Ben worry like he needed another hole in his head.

Emmett interrupted the inner monologue. John's head craned upwards as Debbie laid his chocolate chip pancakes, hash browns, and bacon down in front of him. "I'm sorry Em. I just caught my reflection in a spoon," John lied.

Ted spoke. "Wondering who that handsome devil was?"

Michael grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Maybe he was looking at my spoon."

Emmett rolled his eyes and soldiered on. "Anyways, I was wondering about your plans for the Liberty Ride John. You've been working so closely with Mel and…"

John blinked. "I've still got a little over a week to see if I can get the passport. It's looking grim, I'm not gonna lie. Besides, I'm better with fund raising than actual riding."

"You should come. It'll be exciting." Ted interjected.

"I agree with Teddy. Nothing like a change in scenery to lift the spirits." Emmett reached over and patted John's arm as he reached to retrieve a slice of bacon from his own plate.

Michael lifted a fry to his mouth. "Actually, not going could be a silver lining for me as well."

John furrowed his brow as he bit into bacon as well. "How so?"

"Well," Michael's face lit up with the brilliant idea in place," if you can't get a passport in time then maybe I could turn the shop over to you for a week. I could stand to keep the inflow of revenue and you can monitor all the website security, pay pals, and stuff of that nature."

John thought for a moment. "Seriously? That's like giving a bear cop the keys to a jelly donut shop, don'cha think?"

Michael shrugged. "Why not? I can trust you and what's the worse that could happen? You read every comic like Hunter and never dust anything? I'll even through in a couple of those Peach Snapple Iced Teas you like."

John ripped into his pancakes as he thought, complete with butter and syrup dripping on the plate. "Well, that would solve one dilemma." He began to chew when he had another thought. He finished the bite and then made an exclamation as he dove into his bag.

Ted squished into the window to give John a bit of room. "What are you looking for?" John uncrumpled a bit of newspaper from his bag. Emmett accepted it and made his own exclamation after scanning it. "Oh what?" Ted asked a bit impatiently.

Ted took the paper from Emmett and let Michael scan it afterward as well. Michael read some bits out loud. "Antique shoppers day retreat…"

John raised his eyebrows in Emmett's direction. "Sounds perfect."

Emmett nodded. "I'll see what I can do with my schedule."

John shook his head as he speared a bit more pancake. "You own your own business, Em. Just call Margaret Thatcher and tell her she can plan her next affair without you."


	2. Chapter 2

John reclined stiffly in the chairs at the student lounge. He had picked a less noisy spot in the upstairs wing to host his conference with Victor. Guilty wasn't the right word for his feelings; John often wondered if he was still capable of feeling guilt. He hadn't felt guilt since…well, that didn't matter anymore. He drummed his fingers against the fake wooden arm of the chair as he waited.

His double chocolate chip iced coffee frappacino was melting when Victor sauntered toward the opposite chair. He didn't have much of a choice about the way he walked; his clothes did that to the man. Chi Sigma was the most infamous fraternity on campus and it seemed only natural to both John and Victor that they should have at least the most provocative moves, if not the most talented, at the dance contest.

"Victor." Victor had nodded in response to John's voice and summons. John flipped open his day planner and took a sip through his green straw before addressing the issue at hand. "I think we have a problem."

Victor nodded reluctantly, his longish nose bobbing up and down in time with that little flip in the back of his slicked hair. "I didn't want to say anything."

John raised his eyebrow. "Worried about offending me?"

"Yes."

John shrugged. "If there's anything I can do to change…"

"No, no. That's not it. It's just that your dance moves are too…well, feminine. The boys are getting intimidated. There's talk of firing you."

John's voice quivered with amusement. "What exactly did they expect? You explained to them what I teach to the new dancers at Babylon, right?"

Victor nodded, grimacing. "I don't think they quite expected what we got."

"Well," John sighed, "I do my best to be a man of honor and I think that we could almost consider a lack of attendance as a breach of contract. I can't do the show you want with only three people showing up on a weekly basis. I know your boys; they can get far too enthused. I remember this episode with Tide and a slip and slide during a barbecue…"

Victor chuckled. "You were there for that?"

"Well, I was actually at one that was hosted at UCLA, but the brothers all seem to speak a unified language."

Victor leaned back in his chair a little. "Why didn't you ever become one of us?"

"Wasn't for lack of trying. I just didn't have the income for it."

"There are always ways around the income."

John gave a smirk. "When they want to find a way around it? It's not that big a deal now."

"I would've let you in."

John sighed. "Perhaps we should talk on something else. Maybe a way to improve my lessons so I don't feel like I'm bilging you guys?"

Victor blinked, a light bulb going off in his mind. "Of course! What are you doing this Saturday night?"

John shrugged. "The normal debauchery after a bit of shopping with a friend. Why?"

Victor smirked. "I think it's time you see what kind of dancing my boys have in mind."

Emmett popped into John's thoughts as they sauntered along the Amish countryside, the radio playing a low beat. "Well, of course I'll go with you. Who knows? Perhaps I'll find myself a shiny toy to play with."

John snorted through his nose as he was trying to take a gulp of his Mountain Dew. "This is a fraternity, Emmett. They play by different rules than Babylon."

Emmett smirked. "That may well be, but it's not like there aren't any poor, naïve farm frat boys that aren't looking for an excuse to get down and dirty."

"You're terrible."

"I don't hear you arguing."

"As well you shouldn't." John took a look at the map, furrowing his brow. "I think we take a left at the crossroads of these two…farms."

Emmett nodded. "Oh, I see a sign. So, why did you pick this place?"

John mumbled a little into the map. "They've got the best cider in three counties and I wanted to clear my head."

"You sure you want me along to do that?"

John looked up at Emmett, surprised to hear the question. "Of course I do. Your attitude is the embodiment of the great queens. I only wish I were half as brave as you."

"And who says you aren't?" If he hadn't been driving, John was sure Emmett's hands would have been on his hips. John returned to the map, silent. Emmett soldiered on. "I mean, transplanting yourself into a strange place and making new friends and tough calls. You, sir, are the stuff of legends as well."

"Yeah, well, my Cher impression's not quite as on as yours, Em."

Em pursed his lips a bit. "That's okay, darling. No one does a diva like me."

John laughed, feeling a weight pull away from himself and back towards Pittsburgh. They arrived at the converted barn without issue of getting lost, which according to John was extraordinary considering his abysmal skills at navigating, or having bad weather, which wasn't so strange according to Emmett.

"So, how about some gossip time?" John asked as they perused an aisle of oddities.

"Oh, I want to play. Nothing like a great bit of gossip to get a girl's blood flowing. You go first."

"Okay." John stopped to fake examine a little statue. "What's up with you and Ted?"

Emmett made a stunned surprise face. "Just…feeling things out as we go. Oh, look over there. A picture of a giraffe and a hummingbird; must be fake Asian antiques."

John chuckled. "Wow, Em. You sure know how to avoid a question. You could've been a lawyer."

Emmett walked toward the next table over. "Yeah, well, the suits were too drab. Now it's my turn for a little gossip."

John winced. "Don't be too harsh."

"I won't be. If you'll tell me what happened between you and Ben the night of your birthday."

"You know the story, Em. This isn't the time or place."

"What? You hold something sacred about antiquing?" John stammered, feeling a bit flustered. "Well," Emmett broke his train of thought, "if the redness in your face is any indication than I'd say that we really are here to find Ben's birthday gift."

John calmed a bit. "I didn't think it was that big a secret."

"No, you've done a good job of hiding it. Just something I see every now and then. I bet you imagine those arms don't you? Maybe steal a brief kiss in the office, full permission from Michael of course and never meaning to Ben what it does to you…"

"Alright, alright." John made the sign of being shot in the heart. "You've wounded me enough. Yes, I thought I'd get something for when they move in together."

"My, my. You're quite gracious. I can't say I'm the same way, but I do approve."

John shrugged. "I do what I can." And then he saw it. "Em! I found it!"

Emmett turned the object in his hands. "What is it?"

"Well, this is actually the Chinese symbol for and but I think it means something else in Japanese. Ben would know more than I would."

"Yeah, but you took Asian civilizations, didn't you?"

John nodded. "I dabbled. I like the frosted lettering against the mirrored background though. Do you see a price?"

"You want American dollars or yen?" Emmett joked.

"Very funny. I think I'll get it for them."

"See anything else you want?"

A clerk about John's age walked past just then. He was tall with poufy brown hair in wild tangles. His eyes were a crisp hazel color and his cheeks were dotted with freckles. He was whistling to himself as he walked in his dark green apron. His jeans perfectly canvassed his ass.

"Can you wrap him up to go, Em?"

"What do you mean you want to go?" Emmett shouted into John's ears. Even the bass in the entryway of the fraternity house was drenched in sound.

"We're supposed to follow Victor!" John pointed toward the sea of people milling about near a hastily set-up stage. Emmett looked more out of place than John, but probably fit more into place than John ever could. The mass of bodies here, or at Babylon, still failed to impress John as much as he supposed they should have. Without people like Em in his life…John didn't want to think about it.

Victor waved and John nudged Em's elbow. Like salmon moving upstream, the archaic mob of hanger-ons and teenage beatniks moved through the rooms. There were red cups aplenty floating about and John declined two before reaching a balcony above one of the main dance floors. Maybe above was too lofty a word. Three steps separated him from the dancing masses. John let his Converse hang and rest on the railing while he and Emmett watched the crowd. There was no point in trying to hold a conversation. Since when had John been in a place that made him feel so old?

The music stopped abruptly, leaving a strange silence in the atmosphere. People ceased talking and every face pointed toward the stage, as though an advertised show were about to start. Confirming this, Victor leaned over to John. "You ready?"

John nodded. He loved finding out about and appreciating new forms of culture. Although this place was about as taxing a place as he wished to go.

There was a single thud that came from the behind the stage curtain. It was a makeshift black number, camouflaged by low lighting and the full dance floor. The thud was followed by a cascade of booms reminiscent of Stomp. John thought that maybe some of the brothers were going to show up with trash can lids or paint cans. _That could be entertaining_, John thought.

Emmett whispered on the other side of him. "Is this the floor show? Think they'll come out in blue petticoats with fur fans?"

John whispered back in mocking tones. "Keep your Rosemary Clooney fantasies to yourself!"

Then, suddenly, there was one man on stage in a muscular top that showed off his muscles and veiny neck. His jeans sagged far too low and his backwards baseball cap was not as fetching as I'm sure he imagined it to be. His movements were aggressive, reminding Emmett of a gorilla once that had been stared at while he was meandering through the zoo as a small child.

John cocked his head. He was stomping in rhythm to a non-existent beat and yet it was beat to itself. His arms and shoulders jerked in a motion that was short and choppy, almost like the Robot but more modern. The dancer's fists crossed themselves a few times in a display of power. He spoke something, but John couldn't make it out exactly.

He was about to lean over to Victor to ask what the man on stage was saying when Victor said. "Stepping."

John repeated it, making sure he was hearing correctly. "Stepping?"

The word's meaning soon became clear. John's mind began to form a definition as two men appeared onstage, dressed quite like the first. They were doing a mirror image of what the lead stepper was stomping. Two more flanked those two on each side. For a moment, John wasn't sure if that was the entire show or if there was more. But there was more.

It was clear that stepping had more of an urban flair, almost the same components as a break dance step. It required muscular form and a sort of egotistical confidence, a mystical proportion of testosterone in some ways. John still couldn't make out what they were saying, but it became clear it didn't matter when the men began to mirror each other and change positions until various stages of the same dance were interspersed at various intersections of the stage.

That's when John Penn gasped for maybe the third time since he'd moved to Liberty Avenue.

The man on the very end and very left of John was named Robbie. He wasn't what you would call a friend, possibly not even an acquaintance. He hid his intelligence between wickedly sharp blue eyes and that pale Jewish skin that exposed every vein and sinew of muscle. It was clear Robbie had kept the desire to keep himself in shape. How long had it been?

The music stopped and the hat that Robbie had used to hide most of his facial features was flung into the crowd, a generic white ball cap. John fidgeted, trying to make polite conversation with Victor. "So, that's stepping?" He couldn't take his eyes off of the man to his far left.

Victor stated the definition quite matter-of-factly; as though this were the world every man should have grown up in. "It's a cultural form of self-expression that takes various forms of African tribal culture with a mix of urbanized ghetto living and creates a masculine set of movements that are difficult to master. It requires a lot of dedication to get to that level."

John nodded. "I can see why people weren't too thrilled with my class once they saw what I was offering."

Victor shrugged. "They'd have hung in there if they knew you better."

John watched Robbie out of the corner of his eye. "I've no doubt. So, were all the dancers from Sigma?"

Victor nodded. "Mostly, couple of new guys from the west coast proving themselves, grad students."

"Hey! Watch what you say. I'm a future grad student." John joked.

Victor nodded, with a grin. "Well, if you'll excuse me gentlemen…I must go meet my girlfriend and do some heavy mingling."

The loud beat began again with a slow build. "We can hold down the fort."

Robbie, John thought. Two years I sat in that class with Jean and then Casey. Two years of us going through the motions of mockery, study groups, alienation, and the jerk I always imagined you to be. But you weren't a jerk. Just a young tough hoping he could be angry enough. How very James Dean of you, Robbie.

"Enquiring minds want to know what you're thinking." Emmett yelled into John's ears.

John looked down at Robbie. "I knew him."

"Oh? Anything I should be jealous of?"

John's head swung around Emmett in a grin. "Emmett, since when have I ever given you cause to be jealous of anyone?"

"Has he seen you yet?" Emmett nodded towards Robbie, who seemed to be moving off-stage, probably to change back into his normal party gear.

"I doubt he remembers me."

Emmett shrugged, noticing the young guy with moussed spikes in his hair and almost visible four pack under his white tank as he walked slowly behind the pair. "Well, the night is young John. Perhaps we should mingle a bit."

John tilted his head to the side, back and forth to the beat. "I'd rather people watch for awhile."

"Don't bore yourself into an early grave. I, however, need to go meet people."

"You just want me to bump into Robbie, don't you?"

Emmett followed the flirty eyes of Mr. Mousse. "Something like that."

John chuckled. "Go get-em, tiger."

Emmett leaned over to kiss John on the cheek. "Don't go spreading rumors about me. Even if they are true."

John was left alone on the railing and he suddenly had a tremendous craving for a bottle of Rolling Rock. He liked the feeling of the bottle cold against his hand. He liked the tint of green in the sea of drab black. He liked the way he looked, older but still free. But here he'd be just another student with just another red cup. That's not who he was.


	3. Chapter 3

John found his eyes glued to the stage as the songs began around him. The people danced. Well, gyrated was a better word. John had never understood the allure of sex on a dance floor. There was no point to it, or beauty. There was nothing to prove, just a mix of masculinity and feminine sexuality. It was the same fantasy they indulged in at Babylon. _Or perhaps_, John thought, _I've just been getting bitterer since my birthday. Maybe this isn't realism. Maybe this isn't real._

Robbie reemerged with a flock of his friends. His hair was short still, not quite cropped to the point where he couldn't do anything with it. But it was more than manageably short. The black of his hair was great in comparison to the pale skin and the pale blue eyes. Even in the dead of summer, he'd always managed to stay in and avoid the sun at the same time.

Robbie's shirt was another form-fitting black number with no style or label. His jeans were tighter than John remembered them being. He was wearing a silver plaited chain that gave him the same look as his "ghetto" compatriots. But Robbie wasn't fooling John. John half wanted to remain invisible, but he knew that Emmett, if Emmett was still around, wouldn't allow that. He'd be grilled at the Diner and then he'd be forced to interact, either here or elsewhere. John thought with amusement, _What a strange way Emmett has of controlling me_.

He knew the song that began with the drum beat of fingers. John was also surprised that the dj wasn't remixing the beat, surprised in a happy way. John sighed, heading down into the masses of bodies. The floor was clearing out since this was more of an actual dancing song. Suddenly, John felt his place in the beat. There was something inside him that was switched on by sound of the lead singer's voice. And here was a place without faces for him. He could forget if he chose and if he tried; even if it was just for three minutes. He was nothing but a shifting body with moves that were easily noticed.

_Now as the summer fades I let you slip away_

_You say I'm not your type, but I can make you sway_

_It makes you burn to learn, you're not the only one_

_I'd let you be, if you'd put down your blazing gun_

There was a guy watching his hips sway. In the corner of his eye, John knew where Robbie was but Robbie was still unaware that John was at the party. The built blond had a wolfish grin and his tank top barely concealed the tattooed outline of stars across one of his broad shoulders. His hat hid the caramel blond hair but patches across his chest showed in the moving colored lights of the dance floor.

_Now you've gone somewhere else far away-I don't know if I will find you_

_But you feel my breath on your neck-can't believe I'm right behind you_

Someone had nudged Robbie to John's presence. Whether or not he knew the guy wasn't of much consequence. It was the fact two guys were dancing together provocatively at the fraternity party. John's sexuality wasn't a big deal on a campus such as Carnegie Mellon, nor was it much of a sensational fact for the Sigma boys. They were notorious for being experimenters.

_Cause you keep me coming back for more_

_And I feel a little better than I did before_

_And if I never see your face again, I don't mind_

_Cause we got much farther than I thought we'd get tonight_

John could feel Robbie's eyes on him. Was there a glimmer of recognition or was John imagining it? No, the look of disbelief and deer in headlights playing over Robbie's face was genuine. It began to morph and hide, turning to whistles and cheers barely heard over the sound system. Robbie grabbed on the arm of the nearest girl. It was someone John recognized from the cafeteria. Her name was Venus, head of some organization on campus dedicated to…well, there were too many to keep track. Now they were dancing almost as John was dancing with his mystery man. What was Robbie playing at?

_Sometimes you move so well, it's hard not to give in_

_I'm lost_

_I can't tell where you end and I begin_

John had long ago accepted the fact that he didn't care what he proved to people. Just because he was a cub didn't mean he wasn't born with the rhythm and soul for the dance floor. It was unexpected, he supposed, because he wasn't ripped and he had the whole pale Irish thing going. Who knows and who cares was the best he could come up with for a dancing motto. But here was someone different, engaging his sensibilities on a different level. John's new motto for the night was two can play at that game.

_It makes me burn to learn, you're with another man_

_I wonder if he's half the lover that I am_

He knew that the blond with the short hair had been watching. Her dark green Nancy Sinatra boots and Goldie Hawn looks were a perfect match, albeit a bit mod for a fraternity party. Her head was grooving to the beat. She stood just on the edge, drinking from her red cup and talking softly to a friend or two. John motioned her over with a signal of his hand. He spun the girl while never losing sight of the blond guy that was behind him, an erection beginning to bulge through the pants. Blonde boy growled in manly approval. All the while, John watched Robbie's reaction to the slide of hands across her midsection and the threesome occurring to the rhythm of the dance floor.

_Now you've gone somewhere else far away-I don't know if I will find you_

_Feel your breath on my neck-You can't believe that I'm right behind you_

Robbie moved towards the floor and John slid away from the girl and guy. Without fail, the blonde guy began dancing with Robbie's raven beauty and John's bubbly blond. They were apart at first. Robbie watched as John cleared a space for himself around the floor. The music was just as loud and the people just as into themselves, but something about John made them step away just slightly. Maybe it was his hips or his confidence. John never bothered to inquire.

_Cause you keep me coming back for more_

_And I feel a little better than I did before_

_But if I never see your face again, I don't mind _

_Cause we've got much farther than I thought we'd get tonight_

Robbie moved much the same way as he did when stepping and stomping. They were short movements designed to keep a masculine edge on a feminine pastime. But Robbie was closer, now inside the invisible circle that John had created.

_Baby, baby-please believe me_

_Find it in your heart to reach me_

_Promise not to leave me behind_

John's chin inclined upward sharply with the beat as Robbie slid in front of him. The dark fake silk in Robbie's shirt gleamed in the lights. John allowed himself to press forward into Robbie and they gyrated closely together.

Suddenly, Robbie was behind him. It was a slick move and John knew why. He could feel the protrusion, slightly less thick than blond boy but still there. John allowed his hands to twist in the air and the flow back down against Robbie's body. Robbie's breath was against John's neck, hindered slightly by the movement of John's arm, which had been part of the plan all along.

_Take me down but take it easy_

_Make me think but don't deceive me_

_Torture me by taking your time_

John reached behind to where Robbie's belt loops were and Robbie slid his hands down to John's belt buckle. They held there while moving to the song's ending beat and barely anyone noticed, even Robbie's friends seemed to lose interest in the pair.

_Cause you keep me coming back for more_

_And I feel a little better than I did before_

_And if I never see your face again, I don't mind_

_Cause we've got much farther than I thought we'd get tonight_

The song ended abruptly with a guitar chord and an amused look played over Robbie's face. He took John's hand and they dived back through the crowd. John followed up stairs and around corners of the fraternity house. It was a little sudden, but maybe playing was what he needed. But it was strange as they turned past rooms with open, darkened doors. Robbie didn't look back. He just kept walking.

And then, as suddenly as the fancy had struck him, Robbie stopped. Where were they?

There was a click of the lock and John followed Robbie out onto the back balcony. Etched into the silhouette of the house were the Greek letters of pride that united the Sigma boys. The back lot was quieter, although the bass of the music and some noisy stragglers did tend to ruin the solitude. John could see the outline of city, wondering which part he was facing. He wondered where Liberty Avenue was.

It was a small balcony and John found himself pinned to the wall a few moments later. Robbie was mere inches from kissing him, although John didn't think he would. The feeling of Robbie's arm protectively grasping the wall made him feel smaller somehow. Not intimidated, but more of being inside Robbie's body, which was an unexpected twist. Robbie had never struck John as the type to be, well, gay. Then again, maybe they hadn't been as good a pair of friends as John had imagined having all those classes and study groups together. It had been Robbie who had introduced him to hookah as well.

Then he broke the magic of the silence. "JP."

"It's been a long time Robbie."

Robbie nodded. "What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Ohio."

John shrugged. "Well, plans change. I'm intrigued to see you here as well. I thought you weren't coming back from China."

Robbie moved his arm away and they watched the hours of midnight from the balcony. "No. It was just for the year."

"I remember that year. I caught myself from calling you a couple of times."

Robbie looked at John. "I sent Sheridan that letter…"

"I remember. He talked about nothing else for almost a week." _That hurt me, never hearing from you._ "I always thought it was funny because I seem recall you not liking him much."

Robbie shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

John looked Robbie over, an unchanging mass on a sea of instability. "China was good to you."

Robbie glanced back into the night. "Ohio didn't seem to do too bad by you, either."

John snarked. "No, it was the going back to Stanford that helped. All I did was give up soda and I lost a lot of weight I had. Freshman 15, sophomore 20."

"College agreed with you. When you left, I did as you asked. I tried explaining to Rain why you were gone."

John sighed. "How'd the professor take it?"

"I don't think I did a good job explaining why you left."

John chuckled. "Probably did a better job than I did."

"Why did you leave?"

John shrugged. "Money mostly."

"But now you're back?"

"Finishing up my road to grad school. My new favorite professor's helping me there."

Robbie inclined his head. "Who?"

"Ben….Professor Bruckner."

"You're on a first name basis with a professor?"

John winced. "Just kind of slipped out. It's more professional than anything."

"Is he cute?"

John scoffed. "What do you care?"

"You don't have the balls to answer the question. Hell, I had the balls to go to China. Nearly killed myself studying it at Georgetown too."

"Prof. Chen didn't help much?"

Robbie exhaled, raising his hands over his head. John could see the outline of his skin from where his shirt raised away from his jeans. It was enticing and John thought Robbie should have been more careful in sending signals. He wasn't quite biting yet. "No, man. In the two years she taught us, I learned almost nothing. Can you even say bloated or fat?"

"I haven't studied in awhile."

"Well, I did. I could've used your help. I still owe you for being my character vault."

John shrugged. "If I remember correctly, you hated me for it at the beginning."

"And I laughed whenever she asked you a question. You'd just stare at her with your confused face all…just…"

John laughed heartily. "You're such a jerk."

"Yeah?"

"Robbie…"

"You certainly have some balls. They sent me more of that basketball video, by the way."

John shook his head. "We were just blowing off some steam. None of us had any talent. If anything, I blame Aiden for trying to steal all of our Globetrotter plays."

"He always had fun playing you guys."

"I always liked him and Jack. Jack helped me run the radio studio for awhile there, got me a couple of sweet hour spots on Fridays."

"You know that Jack was my big brother, right?"

John shook his head. "Nope. There were a lot of things I didn't know back then. Like why girls always turned me down."

"If I was girl, I would have fucked you."

Then John remembered they had had this conversation once before. Right before the hiatus in Ohio, they had stopped at this spot. In _My Best Friends Wedding_, there is this moment under one of the Chicago bridges. In that moment, if you don't say what you're thinking, then the moment just passes by and somehow you move on or you're stuck in that cycle for longer than forever. But there was no one to burst in on the balcony. So, this time, John got a chance to finish his reply.

"What about as a boy?"

Robbie's eyes narrowed, stunned, as if examining John. "What?"

"I think you heard me. You once said the same thing and then big John burst in the room and you left with him. That was what I was going to say."

"You've got a crush on me?"

"A lot's happened since you were away."

In the midst of all of this, sunrise seemed to be occurring. There was dawn breaking before them, the lightest hints of the morning coming through the inky black midnight. Then Robbie kissed him. John's first reaction was the same as when Gary hugged him the first time. It's the startled reaction of the wounded, almost bordering on a statue-like response.

Robbie wasn't doing a very good job kissing either. It wasn't like kissing Ben. For all intensive purposes, Robbie was still a boy. Ben knew who he was and what he wanted, who he wanted. It was Ben that made John think he should kiss back. It was kind of difficult getting the kiss he wanted only because Robbie was doing his best to hover both his nose and chin off. It was not sloppy or full of saliva, so John had that to be thankful of; that and the fact that he had brushed his teeth that morning.

Robbie took his hand again and they sped away, back down more corridors. The music had stopped but the hallways weren't so silent. There were sounds. John recognized them from the bathhouse, from the back room at Babylon, in between cattle calls at Mr. Woody contests. They were the sounds of brutal, youthful sex. Would it be worth it to do this? Probably not. But John was sure he'd never forgive himself otherwise.

He felt himself pulled into a darkened room. The blinds were somewhat closed, leaving the nearby outdoor orange lamp to send shades of weird light into the shadows. John still didn't trust Robbie enough not to let Robbie kiss him again without covertly making sure the door was locked. The only problem was that he didn't know that Robbie shared a bathroom and that door didn't lock.

It's not that John had anything to be ashamed of. On the contrary, Ben had helped him to tone and build the right type of guns. His sexuality had improved his limber body; however he'd rarely been so participatory. Most guys that saw him as a bottom just did what they wanted and he rarely bothered to go through the motions.

But with Robbie, it was an all-out lust fest. Being non-participatory was not an option. His hands were everywhere, quick, stripping John out of his clothing faster than what Brian's best time surely was. Was Robbie eager because he was horny? Most likely. But John didn't mind considering how quickly it could have been over.

But then Robbie surprised John. John had always thought Robbie was the type to have top potential. Robbie was fit and more masculine. Yet here was Robbie, lying on his own bed and stroking himself as John stood stark naked, having his cock sucked. It was a new experience for John in that only one person before had ever done it and it was not the same way.

"Don't gag yourself," John hissed through his teeth as Robbie tried to take too much in. Robbie was hungry, that's probably the best way to put it.

"Tell me what you want," Robbie whispered seductively and John leaned down, one hand still gripping the sheets on the top vacant bunk in the room.

"You couldn't give it to me."

"Yeah?" Robbie revealed his blazing hard-on. "Want to rephrase the answer?"

"I'll fight you for it."

"Stupid move, JP. You don't know what they taught me in China."

John smirked. "Oh, I think you'd be surprised how enlightened I am."

John took the initiative and found himself furiously writhing with Robbie's body. Hard cocks and hands and tongues were flying all over the place, both trying to make the other a top. This is what happens when the lines of communication about sexuality are less than clear. Later, Robbie would say that his first experience was a girlfriend's thumb up his ass and he liked it. John would later that same evening call him a liar.

At some point, the pair tumbled off the bed. They took the sheets with them. The wooden floor wasn't extremely cold. The heat of the pair together warmed the place. John's glasses went flinging over to where the bathroom was. He didn't notice because Robbie was literally backing himself up into John's body. John's cock slammed into Robbie's asshole and there was a slight howl to Robbie voice as his nose scrunched in surprise.

"Thought you said you'd never done this before."

John grabbed Robbie's shoulder, wrenching them both down on the floor. "I'm a quick study."

The fight continued until both body's nerves were tingling. They couldn't move without rubbing against each other, fighting in a tense cocoon of taut blankets. John's breaths were sharp and short, Robbie's sounding a bit like a howl still. Neither was completely sure of which cock was where. John was pretty sure he preferred more traditional acts, but this was the most singularly interesting he'd ever been in. He'd have to ask Ben if this was a normal youthful act, because he was sure that not even Ben would have an answer about it.

Robbie gave in first, which wasn't unusual in John's sexual encounters. Mostly because John didn't consider himself a greatly sexual being and it was more a performance for power than what John would deem sex. At some point, however, they both came and they were both utterly exhausted.

John listened as Robbie slept. He had never stayed with anyone after Ben and Michael and almost had a small spark of desire to stay. But something inside of him greater wanted him to go. The blankets began to untangle around the bodies. John watched Robbie sleep, wondering what he was thinking. Those eyes were so beautiful and so perfectly sincere without being pretentious. They had come so close during study groups and other times to revealing themselves. All those what-ifs. John felt too old for that now, too old for Robbie if truth be told.

He couldn't find his briefs in the quiet dark that was quickly turning to light. He had to go and he had to go now, before Robbie awoke from slumber. He'd shower and check his schedule and e-mail for the day. He wouldn't fall for Robbie, wouldn't come back. John couldn't put himself through that again. Then John remembered that he had taken Justin's advice on the evening and not worn any briefs. It's funny how Robbie hadn't mentioned that at all.

John noticed the door to the other room open and the blackness of that room meant that he might be able to get out without disturbing Robbie. He had to hope that he hadn't made a mistake. He didn't bother buttoning his shirt, just remembering a couple of buttons as he found himself back over the dance floor landing. The house was strangely empty and silent in the morning hours. His shoes made a horrendous echo. John got lost once, landing in some sort of pool room and arcade place. But then he found the door and only looked back once from the front of house. And John remembered the back balcony and how his body burned.


	4. Chapter 4

Ben was looking at John with those fatherly eyes. John always had trouble deciding if Ben was looking at him with intrigue or pity. That was the trouble with loving Ben Bruckner. You never quite knew what he was thinking until you were already halfway into the conversation.

"Emmett said you had a good time at the party." Ben looked up from his stack of papers.

John's eyes met Ben, his novel lowered a bit. John was glad he was reading Atlas Shrugged; the cover jacket hid his blush. "Emmett forced me to."

Ben's pen wobbled on the table a bit as he let it fall and stretched a bit in his chair. "I'm glad you did."

John's book closed, sitting in his lap. John's feet were reclined, his chair tipped just slightly backwards into the wall. "What exactly did Emmett tell you?"

"He wasn't specific on details. I'm assuming that it's because he wanted you to tell me."

John chuckled. "Be careful about assumptions professor."

Ben inhaled. "John…"

John put his hands up, defensively. "You sure you want to know?"

Ben nodded. "I wouldn't ask if I weren't curious."

John hesitated, biting down on his lip. "Robbie's an …old friend from Stanford."

"Old friend?" Ben's eyebrow cocked in a questioning way.

"That's my story and I'm sticking to it." John's gaze met Ben's questioning eyes. They came to an impasse.

"Were you at least careful?"

"You assume we had sex."

Ben exhaled. "The fact that you're purposely leaving something out tells me that you did have sex."

"Is that your concern, professor? Isn't that what you wanted for me?"

Ben shook his head. "What I want for you is your happiness. I just want you to be careful, that's all. You're…"

"What?" John's voice had hints of defensiveness in each question. "Fragile? Broken? Alone? A defenseless child?"

Ben tried to defuse the situation a bit. "No need to be melodramatic."

"Funny," John quipped with some dry sarcasm, "I thought that's how you liked me."

"Look, I'm not playing twenty questions here. If you're angry about this relationship we have then maybe we should stop meeting for lunch like this. I mean, if I'm holding you back…"

John stood up, his eyes fighting back pain and anger. "Yes, that would be a great excuse, wouldn't it? So easy to blame me or yourself for all of this. God, why do you always have to be so damn sensible?"

"I'm not always sensible."

John grabbed for his backpack. Ben rose quickly from his chair and grabbed one of the shoulder straps just as John's hands touched the door. "Wait."

"For what?"

Ben pulled John's backpack closer to himself, sitting on the edge of his own desk. "I don't want you to leave angry like this."

John's voice cracked. "How else did you want me to leave? Did you think you wouldn't ever hurt me?"

Ben's eyes slashed into John's soul. "If I've done something…"

"It's not what you've done. It's who you are!" John dropped his backpack.

"Come here." Ben whispered and John obliged with a begrudgingly slow pace. Ben's arms folded around his body. It was bliss being with Ben. John didn't feel natural anywhere else, save for maybe singing. It wasn't just that he was holding you. It was the way he held you, that natural protection that he offered in some sort of way that you can't believe it, but you're insane not to take the offer. He can't protect you, but you don't care. John hadn't been this close in a long time, a small stream of air the only gap between them.

John managed to stammer out a statement. "I wasn't careful, but I didn't care."

"You don't want this." Ben's statement is a damnation of John's own thoughts.

"I'll never be able to have even what I know I want."

Ben kissed John lightly on the lips. John pulled away in slight hesitation, but he's still in Ben's grasp. Ben isn't hard and neither is John. There's no sanity inside the kiss, it just stays between the pair. Ben is inside John's very soul, rooting around in an almost uncomfortable invasion of privacy. But John doesn't care. He wants Ben, he kisses him back, and he feels Michael all over Ben. Michael's in the back of his molars. Michael is in the grasp of his fingers. Michael is in the button of his shirts. Michael is the one person John can never be, in love with the one man that John can never have.

The alarm clock goes off blissfully in the midst of the dream. John wakes, startled and bathed in a light sheen of sweat. He looks down at his own body, almost expecting to find someone else. But he's there, alone, wearing nothing except for some Twilight Zone pajama bottoms. He groans as he stares into the darkness being invaded by daylight.

John finally rolls out of bed, padding his way heavily to his bathroom. He showers, numb. He brushes his teeth still numb. He can't shake the dream, can't decide what he wants to do with it. He can only decide that he must never tell Ben or Michael about these feelings. He can't risk what they have.

John looks over the day's schedule while munching down on some Frosted Mini Wheats. He flips his calendar open and then follows with his day planner after rummaging through his American eagle bag. Today is a money day. That means that three events happen in succinct order.

Today means working with that sleazy owner of Babylon in order to try and give his dancers some semblance of gravity in the club. But, it pays for lights and groceries and his club entrance fee.

Today means that lunch will be spent with Michael, working on some villain's dialogue for the current issue and either sidekick or villain dialogue for possible upcoming issues. This means that there's a good chance of spending some time with Justin, the artist, as well.

Today means that later this evening, he'll salivate over roast while finishing his senior thesis before handing this draft of his long-winded historical essay to Ben for proofing. Maybe he'll bake some tuna tonight instead.

John rolls his eyes. The guy that owns Babylon is a hassle, almost not worth working with. But the thrill of watching the change and knowing the dancers personally is almost worth the effort. Plus, it's a chance to do a bit of reconnaissance on fundraising for Mel. It's the ninth hour, but he's happy that he can help Mel and the Center while she's incapacitated with a watermelon growing in her bajengo.

"Victoria! Are you alive down there?" Babylon is always hotter than the outside world, both literally and figuratively. John does not like that it always seems designed to make patrons inside the club sweat. John figures that he must drink nearly his weight in body water simply from being inside the club, and that's before exertion begins.

Victor glares up at the catwalk where John is watching. Technically, Victor is not Victoria yet. And technically, John is just throwing around his muscle of superiority. Victor is just another pretty twink with another pretty shelf life. This one claims he's Latino, but he's too skinny and it's too dark to tell him apart from...say…Janie.

Speaking of Janie, John glances in the direction of the boy atop the bar. "Hey Janie! Don't kick like that or you'll throw your hip out. And then how're you going to pay for that new tattoo?" Janie likes to pretend he's dangerous. He's not fooling anybody.

John hustles his way down the catwalk in full choreography mode. "No! No! No! No! No! How many times do I have to go through the hip swivel? This is not HBO, people and you're not going to be on Hot Cathouse Diaries as the resident queen. Nor are you Joel Grey, no matter how much you want to be."

Victoria talks with his prissy accent. "How are we supposed to get all those references?"

John rolls his eyes in response. "You're not. But here, I'll show you again what I mean."

Janie murmurs under his breath. "Why are we following this fat ass?"

John perks up, hearing the derogatory statement, a fight in his blood. "You know, Janie. You can go ahead and be a two-bit fantasy whore. I couldn't care less. You, as a twink, will eventually either become old and ugly or you'll lose interest in Babylon and become some leather whore, living out a fantasy of trying to find a masculine man to play wife to. Either way, that doesn't get me paid. This does. So, for both our sakes, pretend and try for once. Okay?"

Janie shuts up just as John notices the sleazy Babylon owner walking over while talking with a tall man, somewhat familiar English accent in tow. John groans. This is all he needs at the moment.

"And this is our choreographer for our dancers. Does a show himself some nights. Mr. Penn, this is…"

"Mr. Masters." John reaches his hand out toward Devon from one of the stage stairs.

"So, you know each other?"

Devon's eyes twinkle in a merry gotcha sort of way and John takes his hand. They're still gripping hands when John speaks. "Take five everyone." Grateful murmurs rise from the crowd as John grabs his drink and heads toward a table with Devon in tow. "So, Mr. Masters, is this the type of group you were looking to impress?" John surveys his shabby kingdom and is so impressed.

"Come now, Mr. Penn. You never thought you'd be seeing me again anyways."

John shrugged. "Guilty as charged. Well, I know a couple of things about you. You're British, most likely."

Devon bows in his chair as someone brings him a drink. "Guilty."

"You enjoy bumping into me." Devon nods in response. "And you apparently go around trying to impress gay club owners?" John ventures a guess.

"Well, you're half right, John. Is it alright if I call you John?"

"Sure." John says noncommittally.

Devon continues on. "Actually, what I do is more of a scouting job in gay clubs. I run a couple of venues such as Babylon on this kind of scale in England. Somewhere in Pittsburgh is the same raw talent as we have in London. Think of it as a cultural exchange program."

"Hmmm...so you have to deal with people like him?" John jerks his head in the direction of the owner, currently chatting up Victor.

Devon nods. "No job is perfect."

"How has the search been going thus far?"

Devon shrugs as he takes a gulp of his drink. "I've seen some acts, but nothing that really stands out in an iconic sort of way. Most of these American acts pale in comparison to..say..."

"Eddie Izzard? Dame Edna? Jack Harkness?"

"Oh!" Devon responds, clearly delighted. "You're a Britophile."

"Not quite. I might know my way around a sitcom though. Looking for suggestions?"

Devon blinks. "Not quite, Mr. Penn. You see, rumors are around town that the show that I'm missing is your own."

John chuckles. "My show? I'm an amateur act. I pay the bills here at Babylon, doing karaoke hosting at Woody's and little odds and ends for Rage."

Devon clinked his drink down on the table excitedly. "That's just what I mean! I'm not looking for an established act...."

John gulped, his eyes going wide. "You want me to come to England?"

Devon nods, reaching into his wallet to pull out a card. "Arrangements can always be made. I've seen bits and pieces of your act through video here at the club. You've got something I need, John."

John couldn't believe he actually found the voice to respond. "Do I at least get time to think it over?"

Devon waves his hands around a bit. "Of course. It's a relatively big decision. I don't need an answer now. I've got enough acts to see and a bit of vacation time that I'll be here just under two weeks."

John snorts. The timing's too perfect. It coincides too well with the Liberty Ride and his hopes of making a clean start somewhere. His mind is mulling when Ben pops into his head to say hello, followed by Robbie. "That's good," he stammers out, "I'd want you to see more of my act before making your decision anyways."

It's Devon's turn to chuckle. "A bit of perfectionist, I see?"

John shrugs. "I can't be who I'm not."


	5. Chapter 5

"You're pretty far away today." Michael's eyes shifted softly across the couch. He and John were sitting close, as close as two familiar people could who knew the rhythm of each other's body. But John felt for Michael a kinship only as deep as brotherhood. His love for Ben was different, and even Michael recognized that, never arguing since John did his best to not interlope.

"Hmmm?" John looked into Michael's soft gaze. It was so sweet that John knew how Ben couldn't resist that charm. "I was just thinking."

Michael snorted as he took a sip of his energy drink. "Yeah, well, not about Icetina. If I remember correctly, she is not someone you consider a "substantial" villain."

John quirked his eyebrow. "Were the air quotes around substantial really necessary?"

Michael shook his head. "I would've sold tickets with the fight that you and Justin had about villains. And the fact you ignored the input of the man that actual owns the comic book story made it even more funny."

John shrugged. "I get passionate. And besides, I totally value your opinion."

"Is that why we're having such trouble with the next comic for Rage?"

John wiped his brow with his palm and sighed. "There's a limited scope you're giving me, here. I just don't see it the way you do."

"Well, you don't have to. After all, this is about a process of writing and I know how good it can be when you're sincere."

John sighed. "You know what I think of Rage. You know I just don't see it like that. I'm gay, I'm just not like that."

Michael was giving him that look again. "I know. And I wouldn't want you here if all you were gonna do is moon over Rage. But you have to be here first."

John took a swig from his Snapple Peach Iced Tea. "The truth?"

Michael nodded. "That would be nice."

John bit down on his lip. "That British guy I told you about? The guy that hit me with his rental? He's offering me a contract in London. It could send my career into orbit."

"That's good!" Michael jumped on the couch a bit so he could tuck his legs into a more comfy position. "That is good, right?"

John winced. "In theory."

Michael turned a shade paler. "In theory? We're talking about your future, possible stardom and everything you want."

John shook his head. "We're not talking about everything I want."

Michael began to form a response when the door slammed shut and Ben called out. Michael turned his head and John tried to shuffle up some of the scattered papers.

"Hey." Ben looked down at Michael, bending over to kiss him, still in his coat.

"Hey Pookie." John muttered, bitterness contained beneath the current of shuffling.

"How are my boys doing at their work?"

"It's a slow process today," Michael informed him.

"Trouble with plot development?" Ben queried as he went into the kitchen to fix himself a protein shake.

"Not exactly..." Michael trailed off as he watched with amusement as John tried to wave his arms around subtlety to get Michael to not tell Ben about his opportunity in London. John's eyes went wide as Michael soldiered on, his neck craning toward the kitchen. "Some members of the writing staff weren't altogether here today."

"I noticed. Justin preoccupied?"

Michael smirked. "Yes, but I'm not talking about that."

John was still shaking his head in tiny twitches when Ben walked back in the room with his shake. "Well, don't keep us all in suspense then."

"John...."

"Has to go!" The redheaded subject of the conversation bolted up, knocking a couple of story panels over in the process in his race to leave the apartment.

Ben was still forming his words as John literally ran out the door. Ben pointed to the bag on the end of the table. "Well, I know he'll be back."

"Why?"

Ben picked up John's khaki messenger bag from beside the table. "He forgot his bag."

John kept walking at a brisk pace. He was near enough to campus that it wouldn't look any stranger than if he had been out on a jog. Luckily, it was light coat weather and his red face didn't look too bizarre in the evening's glow.

John was walking again, letting his feet lead. Truthfully, he didn't want to make this decision because he already knew what was good for him. But what was good for him wasn't necessarily what John wanted. He knew that he didn't stand a ghost of a chance having a normal life with Ben and Michael and that he was just biding his time. But he couldn't leave.

John found himself standing in front of the frat house where Robbie was staying. He thought of all the reasons he had to stay now. Life was simple and less tragic than it had been, Ben had helped to create that world for him. Cutting loose had lead him straight to Robbie. He let himself hope for once that this could be a sign. Granted, Robbie wasn't like Ben. He was all fervor and little skill. John would have to take control, but he was almost willing to take the risk. John had been willing to fool himself into thinking it could just be a one-night stand as well.

The fraternity house itself had that same smell that all fraternity houses had. It was the sweat of brothers gone by and rowdy hockey games on the television. It was the chalk in the air from the pool tables and the stale burritos microwaving in the kitchen. It wasn't home for any of them, just a temporary residence and family. It seemed ideal to John. It always had. Too bad the dues had been so high.

John hesitated at the door. He could hear the voices, but he felt so alienated from them. He had never been one of the guys. Reaching out to Robbie had been the most masculine act he had performed in a long while. There was a call from somewhere above, causing John to look up.

"You lost, bro?"

"I'm looking for Robbie!" John shouted back.

The mystery frat man nodded. "They won't be able to hear you knock. They've got a movie on. Just come on in. I think he's up here, studying!"

John nodded. "Thanks!" John sighed, shutting his eyes the moment before he pressed down on the latch to unlock the door. He swung the big brass handle back and the light from outside flooded into the darkened space. More of the fraternity scent followed.

He traced a route past the giant television playing a movie towards the stairs. He got lost once, again, but assumed he was at least in the right hallway. He past room after room, reminded so much of the dorms. They were studying, listening to music, and playing Guitar Hero. But the closest thing he noticed that was like conversation was a pair of roommates throwing a little foam football back and forth. It sounded as though they were studying the bones of the hand.

"Hey JP!" Robbie was there, signaling him over. John turned and smiled as he moved down the hallway and back towards the familiar room. "They told me you were coming up."

"Yeah, well, I was in the neighborhood and thought I might stop by. You busy?" John noted the six foot something blond skateboarder wearing mesh gym shorts and an open grey zipped hoodie that revealed his lean body. The guy on the makeshift couch was playing Halo with silent intensity.

"Never too busy for a friend. This is Theo by the way, my boyfriend." Theo saluted with a free hand.

"Your boyfriend?" John's voice cracked a little.

"Yeah..." Robbie looked around the room and then down the hallway. "And I guess Sara's gone to get a soda or something. You met her at Stanford, didn't you?"

John's mouth went dry. "So, you're still with her as well. Did they follow you from college?"

Robbie nodded. "Well, he didn't."

John looked at Theo. "Will you excuse us for a moment? Robbie, could I see you in the hallway?"

Robbie leaned against the wall once they were out of earshot of the room. "So what's up?"

"You never mentioned a boyfriend, let alone a girlfriend."

Robbie shrugged. "I assumed you knew. Let's walk a little further." John followed Robbie, his thoughts betraying the silence between them.

"Wait a minute. Just let me think." Robbie's hand stayed out in the air when John pulled away from it.

"It's not that big a deal. Unless you thought...oh god, you did."

"Thought what?"

"You thought it was more than a one-nighter."

"It wouldn't have been that if you had told me about them. Did it mean nothing to you?"

"Hell, no! It was great fun and if I'd known now what I knew then, this would have happened a lot earlier."

John sighed. "I thought...if you only knew."

"Then tell me."

"No...I...I need some air."

Robbie's grabbed onto John's shoulder. They were standing now across from the balcony, the entrance locked off by the men outside. "You don't need air. What you need is to talk to me."

"I don't know...I just thought that if you were bi back then it could have been okay for me and..."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying? Don't make a bigger deal out of this than it was! Take my hand!"

"Let me think for a moment! This isn't that simple."

"Calm down. It works out."

"I can't do this. Oh God, I can't breathe in here. I have to...I want to..."

Robbie wasn't in tow as John walked that path back towards the door. He needed some space or something. He was so unsure of what he needed or wanted again. Perhaps if he had stayed. Perhaps if they hadn't danced. All those what ifs that can kill a person were doing laps inside the track of John's mind.

He came down the staircase and the movie was playing, more men congregated around the screen with standing room only. They were making happy noises and that weird Oh! Noise people made when they were impressed.

John had a tough time moving through the crowd. He was right by the door when he turned back, recognizing his voice on the screen. He refused to let himself collapse here. It was the video on the screen, everything from the moment they had kissed on the porch to the sex. John took a happy moment to admire the lines of muscles in his own body. He was also very grateful it was grainy enough that enough could be left to the imagination. It wasn't about being in the porn. It was about the fact that he hadn't given his permission.

Robbie was grinning, Theo not far behind on the other staircase. John's horrified gaze met Robbie.

"Is this all I really mean to you? This is my life, Robbie."

John opened the door, breathing in the fresh air. Robbie's voice called out as he let the door shut behind him. "You take things way to seriously, John!"


	6. Chapter 6

John was pleased with the clinking of the glasses against the table and each other. His head was low, watching the absent light float through. He was on his third shot of whiskey, or possibly he had already switched to bourbon at that point. It all really tasted the same to him and he didn't care anymore.

"John. May I sit with you?" The voice was soft and he knew it before he turned in his chair to look at Justin Taylor.

_Crap_, John thought, _why did it have to be him?_ "Sure."

"Looks like you have a head start on me."

John sighed, signaling the bartender at Woody's. "Yeah, well. Don't drink too much. You've got that biking thing after all."

Justin just shook his head solemnly. "It seems like I'm not going anymore."

John pawed one of the cool shot glasses between his hands. "Yeah? That's a shame."

"Rage has been given a movie deal in Los Angeles. Michael wants me to go."

"And you're suspicious?"

The bartender came and set down two shots. Justin reacted predictably to his with a stern face. "Well, I wasn't until now. Damn, man, what are you drinking?"

John shrugged. "I've gotta be honest. I stopped paying attention awhile back."

"That's apparent."

"So, Justin, why so glum? Isn't this what you wanted? To making a living with art?"

Justin bit down on his lip. "We both know this isn't what I ultimately want. Sure, art is great, but fuck it if there's no love involved."

John chuckled, working a crick in his neck. "You should have been a poet, Justin. That was beautiful. I'm sorry if I'm not too sympathetic for the crash that is your fairy tale with Brian."

The next set of shots arrived and Justin narrowed his gaze at John. "Jealous?"

John snorted. "Sure. We'll go with that." Several moments of silence passed.

"I mean..."

John hissed. "Stop trying to explain Taylor. I know how screwed up everything is."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because, my little artist friend, my jump is toward the other end of the pond. A friend has offered me an engagement at his club in London. It's supposed to be everything I want as well."

Justin lifted his shot glass to John and they proceeded to clink with sarcastic intent. "How about that, then? We both get what we want."

John scoffed. "Yeah, at a price."

Justin shrugged. "Nothing's free in this world and it's not like..."

"That's easy for you to say. Brian will be around a lot longer."

Justin lowered his voice. "And Ben would hate for you to put your life on hold for him."

"But he knows that I would."

"I have no doubt of that. But we can surprise them both with adult decisions."

John shook his head, reaching back for his coat as he stumbled off his stool. "Screw that. I came here to escape being an adult."

John stumbled alone into the darkness. It was night, early or late didn't matter anymore to him. It was cold enough to need a jacket but warm enough that tears couldn't freeze. He remembered this bridge, this place. A connector between school and the avenue, the old house that had been left abandoned. They had named it, stocked it with Gatorade. And now it was gone, the promises all empty. John hurt.

That was the irony of it all. He could look over the drafty overpass and down towards the speeding cars below and all he could see were the faces he had left behind and yet more faces. He hated himself at that moment. He loathed the torrent of decision, and yet there his future lay like the chasm of all things before him. He would never stop performing. But John had no desire to take this task, no matter how much he knew he wanted to see the world. He had seen Ben, and shouldn't that have been enough?

He didn't really register the car horn right away. It blared selfishly into his thoughts. He caught glimpse of the dark eterior and he cursed. John was not that type of person, didn't care how drunk he looked. Further, the whole sorrow thing had put a big buzz hold on the drunken state. The last person in the world John Tripp wanted to see was that fucking whore Brian Kinney.

_"Why don't you like him?" Ted had asked once, off-hand at Babylon._

_John had shrugged them. "It seems so unnatural."_

_"What, being wanted like that? It's the most natural thing in the world sweetie." Emmett took a sip of his drink._

_"That's not quite what I meant. I feel like he's just a whore, just opposite to where he doesn't pay for it, others pay for it. It's just like the whole thing of nature has gone off track if that's normal."_

_"We're not exactly the pictures of normality ourselves." Ted had scoffed._

_John shrugged. "Once again, not what I mean."_

_"You'd better sort your feelings out before you get too jealous, Big Red."_

_John sighed at Emmett. "I'm not a stick of chewing gum, Em. And I'm not jealous. At least not of him."_

_Emmett shrugged sideways with his chin. "Are you sure? Because, from where I'm sitting, you're way more jealous than you let on."_

That stupid scowl was present from the driver's side. Brian Kinney in his ultimate fucking machine. John sighed. The night just kept getting better.

"Not planning to throw yourself off the side are you? I'd hate to be that clean-up crew."

"Brian Kinney. Decided to wander around with the mortals for awhile?"

Brian snickered. "My, my. You've become a cynical little fag, haven't you?"

John shrugged. "I sure as hell haven't lost my sense for irony."

Brian signaled to the passenger seat. "Get in the car."

"I'll find my own way, thanks."

Brian's face turned serious. "John, just listen to me for once."

John shook his head. "Yeah, cause your philosophy on living totally appeals to me. I'd rather not. There's nothing you can say..."

"Michael told me about the offer."

John snorted through his nose, crossing the headlights of the car. "Except for that."

The car roamed through town a bit, both passenger and driver awkward in their silence. John hated small talk and Brian was uneasy about making it in regards to Michael's shadow. He was sufficiently aware that John was a threat to Ben and Michael and yet he never approached the subject. At best, that was a dangerous thing for Brian to allow to pass. The best thing he knew was to create a distraction that would get John to change his mind.

"Where are we?" John looked at the brick building in the alley. "This isn't my apartment or your loft."

Brian looked up at the building. "You're very astute. Just follow me."

John stopped at the door. "I'm not going in there."

"Why not? What did you think was going to happen when you got in my car?"

"I assumed you were trying to keep me from making a big mistake."

Brian chuckled. "The mistake was letting you in the group in the first place."

"At least, I can say that you're honest Brian."

"Honesty is a trait I never lacked." Brian opened the door and signaled John inside. "Oh come on, I'm paying at least."

John rushed in. "Oh no. I'm not letting the great Brian Kinney pay for a night at the baths for me. I take care of myself."

Brian handed his money to the man behind the glass after John. "Fine with me. Just try not to get in my way."

John's locker was across from Brian's. He stripped from his t-shirt before I said another word. "I don't know how you got me in the door."

Brian opened his locker door with a bit of a slam. "You're gay, John. You love this shit."

John hung up his shirt, releasing his belt. "That's not true. Not really. I was always more like Cole Porter. I mean, the act itself is great, but the sex can be....icky sometimes."

Brian turned, naked except for socks, which he was pealing off at the moment. "Then why stay?"

John shrugged as he nestled his shoes at the bottom of the locker. "Well, because I've paid for it first and foremost. And second is to show you..." John began to walk away from the lockers and up the stairs and away from Brian. "...that not everything you know is true."

John cursed to himself a bit as he lost himself in the darkness. He hated blackout night at the baths. The whole point of sex was to see what you are doing and it annoyed John when random hands moved out from the darkness. The sounds of sucking making that gross noise in his ears. But he continued moving, traveling, trying his best to avoid the King of Liberty Avenue. He had no desire to see Brian for the rest of that night...or day. Whatever the hell it was then.

He came upon an open area that was decidedly not the maze. He avoided the maze, getting lost there was not an amusing experience, especially during a blackout night. Not that it was a difficult maze, but there was no scrap of light to see with and he hadn't perfected the x-ray vision yet. No, it would have been worse if Brian Kinney had paid for him. That was all John Tripp knew.

He saw the tattoo before the man. It slashed his bicep, three concentric rings. They were intertwined, but it wasn't some tribal barbed wire. The biceps were lean without being overdone and the man's teeth weren't too white either. John was pleased to see that the man stopped right before him.

"Hey." His accent was Australian and his towel barely hid a nicely-wrapped foreskin.

"Evening."

The man with no facial hair and a lean surfing physique spoke again. "What are you looking for?"

John chuckled. "Don't promise something you can't deliver."

The stranger smiled. "I always did like a challenge, mate."

"You from Perth?"

The stranger shook his head. "Let's just say I'm here on business."

John grabbed for the man's crotch. "I'd hate to keep you from yours."

The stranger nodded and went to knees in an instant. John inhaled through his nose. The man had good use of his tongue, that was true. He could float on the thick accent, John didn't mind. The whole anonymity thing, maybe that was made hotter just by the fact there had been alcohol in his system quite recently. If nothing else, the man knew what it took to make another hard.

John found that his wandering had led to the cells. The iron lattices were slightly slick with sweat, but that would be the least of his issues if the man hadn't picked up a condom. He wanted to make sure that...

"Hey. You two are pretty hot. Could you use another hand?" The voice was a lot deeper, the skin tone much deeper.

John's skin filled with goosebumps in spite of the heat. "Depends on what you have in mind."

"Maybe this." The other, darker stranger, allowed his hand to roam over John's chest, pulling his body back and watching the cocksucker trail with them slightly. They were mostly already at the wall and so it wasn't really anything of a trek. John could almost see the man's hand in the light. He wasn't incredibly dark, like an Indian even. He was possibly a light Afghani or a dark Italian. Either way, John could feel the safely-bound hard-on already pressed against his hole.

"Careful where you stick that thing."

The stranger behind him chuckled in his ear. "You have to be when it's this big."

John could feel the pair of men pounding upon his body. One was ebbing with the tide while the other flowed gratefully. He was being treated by an anonymous assortment of people at the same party. John had always known the source of his viability was his charm and this was more use of his body. John hadn't known that weapon before or even that pleasure from the anonymous. He could see Brian's thinking and understood how it just floated you away into a place where you didn't worry or you weren't someone's responsibility for a few minutes.

John was thirsty for a cock of his own, but knew that the time would come when he would seek it. It was before much longer that his number was called and he had to leave. His twilight had been like a United Colors of Benetton ad in various rooms, but the blush of that first cell had stayed for so long.

He wasn't drunk on love or booze by the time he had finished and he was right in the assumption that Brian would be long gone before him. Truth be told that Brian's green car was already probably snug at home. The first lights of Liberty Avenue flicked on and people began about their day, most staying from the disheveled looking choreographer of Babylon.

John flumped into one of the seats at the diner, a far corner from his normal joint. He didn't expect the boys this early, didn't want them seeing him either way.

"Hey baby. Getting your special today?"

John sighed as he looked up at Kiki. "It's frightening when you're here enough to get your own special."

"Not really. It's dependable, safe, solid."

John sighed. "Well, that, or I'm just in an awful rut. How about some cocoa too, and then you sit down here and we'll have some gossip."

"You always know how to brighten a girl's morning!"

John saluted Kiki as she flounced away, returning later with food and hot drink. She sat opposite him and John gazed over Kiki, thinking.

"Do I have something on my blouse?"

John was mid-chew and had to swallow before answering. "No. I was just....a million miles away."

"Well, whatever it is makes you look incredibly unattractive. Are you okay, baby? It looks like you haven't slept."

John shrugged. "I haven't."

"Well, tell Kiki all about."

John snorted. "Brian Kinney. I think that's all I should have to say."

Kiki's eyes went wide. "No!"

John wrinkled his nose. "Oh God! That's not what I was talking about."

Kiki heaved a sigh. "Well, that's good. I would hate to think I was the only one immune."

John chuckled as he took a drag of cocoa. "Don't worry. You're not."

"So Brian Kinney..."

"Was just trying to help me get to London sooner for his own purposes."

Kiki furrowed her brow. "Why wouldn't you want to go to London for that job?"

"Does everyone know? My God, this is worse than high school."

Kiki winced a bit. "The main thing is for you to do what makes you happy. You know what Ben wants and what Brian wants, but what do you want? What do you love?"

Kiki got up from her seat after that as a couple of patrons walked in. John sighed, looking at his half-eaten pancakes. They were all right, he knew. But this choice he couldn't have hated more.


	7. Chapter 7

_When it's time to say goodbye, you can no longer face the lie_. John wrinkled the paper in his hands furiously. He was sitting in the front seat with his knees cradling the dashboard as Ben drove and Michael navigated towards the airport. He was full from the party at the diner and dreading the what ifs of if Devon double crossed him, considering that he was already an hour and a half ahead towards London.

"Woah there, John. Don't tear up something like that without letting us see first."

John shook his head in Ben's direction. "I only tear up if I know it's no good."

Michael's reach snatched the paper before John could pocket it. "Would you let us be the judge of that, Priest?"

John turned his head as Michael scanned the fraction of a verse. "Hey, we don't use my super alter ego on this plane of existence, Zeph."

"Zephyr." Michael emphasized his character's full name. "Zephyr. It's an er sound like louder or madder..."

"Or dumber?" John ventured.

Ben sighed as he changed lanes. "Now boys, don't make me....," Ben thought for a second about John, "turn this car around."

Michael nodded, his eyes sparking. "We'll be good."

John scoffed as he snatched the paper back from Michael, securing it deep inside his carry-on duffel bag. "Speak for yourself."

"Well, now," Ben began to caution, "I'd be careful about that until you've gotten the layout of the land. It's not going to be like America."

"I know. But if Ontario is any indication..." John smirked.

Michael nodded. "Well, gay seems to be pretty universal. Just know the country, considering most of them don't even get parades."

John went silent for a moment, sitting back in his seat. "I know."

Ben shook his head, talking to John from the corner of his eyes. "I'm not sure you understand the scale of oppression. We just don't want to see you do anything too risky."

John shrugged. "I'll stand up for what is right."

Michael smiled. "Perfect answer. And turn left into short term parking, Ben. Crap, you remember the quarters?"

John rummaged through one of the zipped compartments, holding a ziploc baggie. "I got them."

There were waves of silence that accompanied aimless small chatter. Parts of the time in various lines, John shoved his nose deep into his copy of Britain for Dummies. His stomach wasn't holding food yet, but he was resilient enough not to throw up when Michael bought a slice of Sbarro pizza for him, the stuffed meat trio he loved, as a beautiful gesture of friendship.

The great thing about Michael was that he knew when to bow out as well. The flight hadn't been called yet and John knew he wasn't going to get a perfect movie moment. He was impatient to be at his gate, impatient to not say goodbye and very afraid. He shivered, his core moving violently in wanton waves of missing Ben and Michael already. A little Emmett voice in his mind told him that it would always be that way. That he would always have a connecting flight. He ached for simpler days of simply denying his sexuality, but knew much better of himself.

"So..."

"So." Ben replied with a sort of finality. He stood directly in John's line of vision and John was not slouched, just barely bending upwards to make contact with Ben's eyes.

"I'm gonna go grab a copy of..." Michael disappeared, but they had already said goodbye and John knew, somehow knew, that he would see Zephyr again. After all, Priest was a good friend and a great ally in the fight for tolerance and fucking. At that moment, John had the desire to reach up and brush away one of the bangs that swept Ben's brow.

"Are you nervous?"

John blinked at Ben a moment before answering. "My stomach's flipping pancakes at the diner, Ben. But that's not why I'm nervous."

"What then?"

John watched the rotation of the escalator from the corner of his eyes for a moment. "You know why."

"This trip will do wonders for you."

John grimaced. "It occurs to me that the things that often do the wonders for me are the ones that hurt the most."

Ben chuckled. "Only you could make a trip to work in London out to be a pessimistic character building activity."

"And you sound like Calvin's dad after a day of bike riding, Ben." There was a silence amidst the travelers. John took advantage of the moment to look down at his bag and look back up at Ben.

"Perhaps you should just start walking. I get the feeling you'd stall here all day if you could."

John laughed with a sort of tear mingled in. "You're right. But there is one more thing I need to do."

"I'm not going to kiss you in the middle of the terminal." Ben stated with a half-hearted smile.

John began to laugh in return. "Damn it, I'm trying for waterworks here, Ben. Stop trying to make me feel better."

"I make no promises."

John's face fell blank for a moment as he opened his back, rummaging with his hands. "No, you never did. But I kept one I made to myself."

"Oh?" Ben's eyes traveled John's body down towards the bag as the present sprung forth.

Ben took the package, slightly confused, as John smiled. "So? Open it."

It took Ben a moment to register that it had been shifted from the bag into his hands. "John, you didn't have to..."

"I know. But no one buys a gift because they have to. They buy because they want to or need to and it was a mixture of both for me."

"What is it?" Ben turned the slightly heavy object in his hands, the silver paper with blue ribbon crinkling around the edges.

John scoffed. "I'm not telling you everything. But I know how much this new unity with Michael in your life means to you. And I know that living together now, you'll need a whole bunch of stuff to display together to make your own memories as a couple."

Ben blinked and then gasped slightly at the mirrored, frosted Japanese letter lying elegantly in the center of the paper. It sparkled in the reflection of the clean, open airport space they stood in. John continued to speak. "I found it while I was with Emmett at one of our boot sales and I thought that it just sang out to me."

"It's perfect."

"Like you two are." John's eyes fell, resigned.

Ben used a free hand to cup John's chin. "Hey, he is out there somewhere."

"But what about the one I'm leaving behind. Who'll take care of him?"

Ben could only think of one way to respond. The kiss was shocking in its openness. Ben and John had been protecting themselves against emotions regarding each other. But the truth was that they were in love in some way, just not the kind of true and filling love that Ben and Michael possessed. In that moment, Michael's hand as a presence was on John's shoulder saying goodbye as well. In that moment, he was kissing a ghost from his birthday weekend. In that moment, John held onto his knees as Ben, his aloof figure of love, was close enough to touch.

They did not break for many moments, simply trying to say something that neither quite knew what to say. John gave himself the chance to have this chance to live and love and experience somewhere without a safety net. But it was what he was giving to Ben that was more important to them both. The kiss was a blessing, a final goodbye to something that could not change that which should always have been.

John trembled as they broke apart. "Wow. I won't find that in London."

"It's a big city on a big island." Ben took a moment. "John, never forget that I love you. No matter what, that ...."

John shook his head, his finger running over Ben's lips. "No, please, finish that sentence and I will begin to cry. Somehow, you swept in and filled the holes in my heart and now I'm....God, I love you Ben Bruckner. You'll always be him, no matter how many others there are." Together, Ben and John understood the sentence he could not bring himself to say yet again. _But I'm so glad you and Michael have each other because I love him to_.

Ben whispered, his head hung low. "You'll have to go up those stairs now."

"Yeah, before we turn more Casablanca than we already are."

John picked up his bag, turning once more when he reached the top of the escalator. He turned to wave, a sad and slow movement of his wrist. Michael's body was in the same space as Ben again and they waved together. Inside, John realized that this was how it would always have been. Part of him cracked but another part smiled deeply.


End file.
